


The Gambler

by ferowyn



Series: XMFC - Cherik Playlist [4]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cherik - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, did I mention that I was a Dramaqueen?, kink meme prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferowyn/pseuds/ferowyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Give me one good reason I should stop."</p><p>"I'm pregnant."</p><p>Why would Erik believe him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gambler

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for a prompt at the XMFC kink meme:  
> http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/11912.html?thread=23142024
> 
>  
> 
> **Fun. - The Gambler**
> 
> _I swear when I grow up I won't just buy you a rose_   
>  _I will buy the flower shop, and you will never be lonely_   
>  _For even if the sun stops waking up over the fields_   
>  _I will not leave, I will not leave 'til it's our time_   
>  _So just take my hand, you know that I will never leave your side_

### The Gambler

You love him.

There is no denying that, but still…

Sometimes fighting the urge to throttle him is quite a challenge.

Like now, for example.

Those men on those ships… His words are resonating in your helmet-clad head, even as your hold over the missiles is taking all you have to offer.

_They’re just following orders._

That he said something like that, knowing what you have been through- …

“I’ve been at the mercy of men just following orders. Never again.”

With one movement of your hand you send the bombs back towards those ships, towards those men who were just trying to kill you and those you love.

Towards those men Charles is still defending.

“Erik, release them!”

You are concentrating on keeping the missiles on their path towards the ships, which really is a strain, and he-

“Give me one good reason I should stop.”

They were just going to blow you, _him_ , up!

Out of the corners of your eyes you see him gulp, look away.

“I'm pregnant.”

You cannot suppress the short laugh that breaks through. Really, does he think you are that easy to distract? He seems to know, how precarious your hold over those missiles is, despite the helmet on your head. Charles has always been too clever for his own good, and he has always been able to read you too effortlessly.

But you will not fall for that cheap a trick, and anyway, the ships are not that far away, you only need a few more seconds.

For a moment a thought flickers through your well-protected mind, whether he is hearing their fear, feeling their panic-

You hear him scream soon enough, but it takes all your concentration to keep control over those missiles, and you have to admit, you actually are surprised when he tackles you. Both of you are tumbling to the ground then, rolling in the sand, and it is a dangerous combination of anger and desperation that makes you cling to the missiles with everything you have got.

He is trying to tear that helmet off your head, that helmet which will grant you your revenge, and there is no way you can let him do this.

Still, this is Charles – and you would never be able to forgive yourself if he came to harm by your fault.

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Then don’t hurt me!”

Your elbow connects with his face, and for a short moment you almost lose control over the bombs, because you can see the pain in his eyes, but _they were going to kill him for god’s sake!_

“Stand back!”

Your control over your power is hanging by a thread, and when the kids are approaching, wanting to interfere, you have thrown them backwards before ever really intending to.

Charles is still struggling, underneath you, but you are stronger than him, and coming out on top, and-

“Erik, stop!”

He reaches for the helmet once again, and he, too, seems to be desperate, but you cannot care about that now.

You punch him – hard – which gives you the chance to stand up, even though guilt is already burning through your veins.

God, you love him.

Hurting him like this… you never thought you were even capable of it-

You do not sense the bullets soon enough, having completely forgotten about Moira and her stupid little weapon.

It is your luck that her first shot hits the helmet, and then you are alerted, able to deflect every single one of those shots. How ridiculous, to attack a metallokinetic with a gun-  
…

You are not following the path of the deflected bullets with your senses, but, somehow, you know.

Turning your head you watch the way he falls, hand pressed against his lower back, and you are too slow to catch him, too distracted, too shocked.

God.

You have reached his side in an instant, falling to your knees and forcing that bullet _out_ , but you know – the damage has been done already. Turning him around you pull his torso onto your lap, not even caring any longer that the missiles are falling into the water, those men getting away.

He is groaning with pain, and you feel the guilt set your heart on fire.

“I’m so sorry!”

You are so very angry at yourself.

And that you are most dangerous on pain and anger is well-known.

“I said back off!” you roar when the kids are trying to come closer. There is no way you can guarantee that you will not hurt them now, not if they approach Charles. You need to protect him, you just hurt him and you need to make it up, and while your mind may be able to distinguish between friend and foe you are working on emotions now, and your power is connected to your subconscious.

Your hand has sneaked underneath Charles’ head, to his neck, supporting him, and the other one has come to lie on his chest.

You need to make sure that he is still alive.

Whether he even wants to be touched by you, after what you did, you cannot say.

Then Moira approaches, and _fury_ rages through you.

If she had not shot-

“You! You did this!”

At that point the subconscious takes over, and when you raise your arm blind with anger you almost strangle her, despite the fact that you definitely do not want to kill her.

“She didn’t do this, Erik. You did.”

And just like that, he breaks your heart.

You let Moira go, because – well, what could you do?

Your power seems to have left you, deflagrating with Charles’ words, and you cannot help but be relieved, although you could not even manipulate a nail right now. At least, that way you will not hurt anyone else.

“Charles, I-”

He gives you a pained smile, but his face is no longer open, easy for you to read.

“You were right,” he says, “peace was never an option. Revenge will always come first for you.”

And only then you see the way his left hand presses against his lower abdomen.

“I- … Charles-”

“Get me to a hospital,” he demands, and what looks like panic is beginning to darken his eyes. “Now.”

He is right, you realize, he is on dear need of medical attention. So you do the only thing you can think of in that moment: While ripping the helmet off your shoulders you motion for Azazel to come closer _right this instant_.

“Take us to a hospital,” you order, tersely. “Then you are free to go, but if you don’t take us right now-”

“Alright, alright, I will!” the red-skinned mutant says, raising his arms in defeat. “No need to be angry.”

Only then do you realize that the helmet is floating in front of you, your control over your powers still entirely subconscious.

Crab.

Gulping, you give Charles a worried glance, expecting him to get into your head or berate you or-

But he is really panicking now.

“- … Charles?”

“I… can’t feel my legs. I can’t feel my legs. I…”

Fuck.

“Azazel!”

A moment later you are gone, appearing in the emergency room of a huge hospital somewhere in the US, the man you love almost falling to the floor because you were kneeling when Azazel took you away, and are standing now. Somehow, you manage to hold him, but he is screaming with pain, and everyone is staring at you-

“Charles! _Charles!_ ”

Charles!

He reacts to your mental call, staring at you with wide eyes.

Make them believe something else, make them treat you without asking too many questions, make them forget-

Now you are the one panicking; however, Charles’ fingers are already flying towards his temple.

A second later everyone else is caring for their own business again, while a team of doctors and nurses is rushing forward to meet you.

They pull him from your arms, transferring him to a stretcher, and are wheeling him off before you even have the chance to react, one of the nurses keeping you from following when you try to do so.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Visitors cannot access this area.”

And with that she leaves you standing, watching as the man you love with all your heart is being taken away.

The man you love who is hurt because of you.

Only when an arm sneaks onto your shoulder you realize that all the metal in the room is vibrating, and that everyone is staring again, released from Charles’ power. Also, the kids are here, and Alex is the one who is trying to make you calm down.

His face is a hard mask, but his eyes are soft and understanding when he looks into yours.

“Come,” he says. “Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing we can do now, anyway.”

His hand is heavy on your shoulder, and at any other time would feel like confinement (reminding you of Shaw), but now it is anchoring you to this world, this world in which you have no control over you powers and might lose Charles forever.

On your way out, somehow, Raven’s fingers sneak between yours.

You squeeze them, unable to do anything else, and helplessly follow Hank and Sean out of the hospital. The Irish boy takes a look at the surroundings and then leads you off, towards what turns out to be a park. Everyone is staring, especially at Beast, but you cannot care about that now.

Sean finds you a little pavilion, which clears out surprisingly fast when the teenagers lounging there see Hank.

“Has to be good for something,” the blue-furred boy growls while sitting down on the stone floor, his voice betraying how tired and worried he really is.

You let Alex push you down as well, your gaze lost somewhere in the direction of the hospital.

There is nothing to take your mind off what you have just done.

To your surprise Angel – who came with the boys and Raven – is the one who breaks the tense silence.

“I wouldn’t have believed him either, you know. We’re mutants and all, and anything’s possible, but still… I was sure he was trying to distract you, make you lose your focus. Only when he was lying there…” She does sound honest, and it actually makes you feel better.

“What… do you think, he’ll… lose it?” Raven’s voice is small. Scared.

You feel your throat tighten.

“I- …”

You have no idea what to say. You are not even sure you _could_ talk, if you wanted to.

Alex’ hand is still on your shoulder, and you could not be more thankful for that.

“Didn’t you know?” Sean, addressing you, is the one who asks that, obviously forcing the words out as well. He is pale, and his eyes are wide with fear. “I mean, that he’s… pregnant. Didn’t he tell you? I… he must’ve known _before_ , right? Before we left for Cuba…”

All you can do is shake your head.

Oh, you wish you would have known!

Hank growls lowly. “He probably thought we wouldn’t have let him go.” He is wringing his blue-furred hands.

“Damn right we wouldn’t have let him come!” Raven shouts, before deflating again. “Sorry.”

“You’re right,” Sean agrees. “We wouldn’t have… but it’s clear that we needed him. And he’d never have let us risk leaving Shaw to start a nuclear war… I don’t know what we’d have done.”

“It would have meant some nasty arguing. But… that’d have been better than letting him risk so much, without even knowing that we should protect him.” Alex’ voice is bitter. Disappointed. “I… I would’ve…-”

For the first time you manage to speak again.

“This is not your fault. _Any_ of yours. It’s mine, and mine alone. I… hell, I even hurt you and-”

“It’s okay. You were trying to protect him. I could see that your powers were working on your instincts, and still I approached. No one of us will blame you for keeping us away from him, or for throwing us back.” The understanding in Hank’s words makes you gulp. His eyes are sincere, honest, and you can see everyone else nodding.

Raven tries to force a smile. “All of us know how you feel for him. We shouldn’t have tried to interfere, not in a situation like this. But…”

“… he’s your brother,” Angel finishes. “You couldn’t have just stood there.”

Somehow, distractedly, you notice how they seem to have accepted her back despite everything that has happened. Most of all, however, you are occupied with trying keep the tears at bay. That they will forgive you, just like this… makes your heart a little lighter.

It is heavy enough already.

How are you supposed to forgive yourself?

Hell, how is _Charles_ supposed to forgive you?

Raven reaches for your hand again.

“I… I don’t know how he’ll take it, especially if- …”

She does not manage to say it, and you do not even dare think of the possibility. That you might have just killed-

“Anyway. I… we’re family, Erik. _You_ ’re family, and you always will be, no matter what happens. It… things will be hard, I’m sure. But you’ll always have us.”

There is nothing you can do, but hug first her and then all the others, finally letting the tears run free.

 

xXx

 

Stepping into the room means finally finding out. Finding out whether Charles really was – is? – pregnant, what has happened to the baby, whether he will have received a permanent injury.

Whether he will be able to forgive you.

Raven has reached for your hand again, squeezing it as she stands before the door besides you.

“Family only,” the nurse has said.

You could not tell how Raven and Moira (who has turned up at the hospital while you have been at the park) managed to convince her that both of you are his siblings, but you do not really care. Also, you would gladly pretend to be Charles’ brother if only to get to see him for the rest of your life.

Raven finally gathers her courage, raising her hand.

“He’s woken up, but he’s still out of it due to the narcotics, and will probably fall asleep again very soon. Make sure not to upset him, and let him sleep,” the nurse instructed you.

You are not even sure whether you want him to be awake or asleep.

The blonde who is still clinging to your hand as much as you are clinging to hers knocks, and you are sure her heart speeds up as much as your own when a tired, small voice answers.

“Come in.”

Again Raven is the one who takes the first step, pushing down the handle and opening the door. She hesitates for a moment before pulling the both of you into the room, and towards the single bed.

Staring at the countless tubes running into his body you absent-mindedly command the door to close, your heart beating and blood rushing in your ears, so loud that it is all you can hear.

He opens his eyes to look at you, and you see them widen marginally when his gaze travels towards where Raven and you are still holding each other’s hands, seeking comfort so desperately. He closes his eyes again, then, but you know that he is still awake – you can read his face like a book, although you have never seen it that pale and exhausted.

That hopeless.

“Did they tell you anything?” His voice sounds as tired as his features betray.

It breaks your heart.

“The doctors, I mean. Did they talk to you?”

Raven shakes her head, before answering verbally.

“No. They barely let us in here. Moira and I convinced them that you’re both our brother, otherwise they wouldn’t have let us come. Did they… what did they tell you?” She then moves to touch his fingers with her free hand.

He pulls them away.

“Not much. But they certainly _thought_ enough.”

He sounds angry now, and desperate. A dangerous mixture.

Also, he does not seem to care about the way Raven’s eyes tear up after he has stopped her from taking his hand. He may not be looking at her, but you are sure, he must be aware of it.

“Wh-… What did they think?” the blonde asks, desperately trying to keep her voice steady. “Charles-”

He does not answer, but the tightening of his lips and the clenching of his fists do tell you quite a lot.

And while you felt like your mouth was sewn shut before you suddenly cannot keep it back any longer.

“I’m sorry, Charles!” you blurt out, knowing how meaningless that empty phrase will sound, but hoping that he will remember how you apologize to nobody, how you would never say these words unless you really meant them. Just like those other three words-

“I love you, god, I love you, and I never wanted to hurt you, and I’m so, _so_ sorry, that I didn’t listen to you, and that I shot you and that I didn’t believe you-”

Raven is fairly clinging to your hand now, and you stop that flood of apologies and desperation and guilt pouring from your mouth and soul, because he has opened his eyes again and is looking right at you, and his beautiful blue eyes are empty.

“What are you most sorry for?” he asks, voice hoarse and angry and destructive. “For paralyzing me?”

Raven gasps and your heart misses a beat.

“For killing my – _our_ – unborn child?”

Raven bursts into tears and you think you might throw up any moment.

“For injuring me in a way that has left me close to infertile, insuring that there will be no other child for us?”

Raven has spun around and buried her face in your chest, and you feel yourself being torn apart with guilt. However, there is something that burns even more scathingly right now.

White-hot anger.

“So no family for us?” you ask, almost sarcastically, and your voice is shaking with more than just desperation.

He stares at you.

“Obviously.”

His answer is dry.

Accepting.

It makes you even angrier.

“Then tell me, Charles – what precisely is it that we used to have? What about Hank and Alex and Sean? What about Raven? Are they not your family, _our_ family? I… don’t get me wrong, Charles. I love you, and I’m beating myself up for what I did. For- …” you still cannot say it. “But… if you’re telling me that you thought differently about what we had-”

You cannot, are not _able_ to believe that.

This is Charles, for god’s sake.

Loveable, dear, saint Charles.

He is staring at you, eyes wide and not completely empty any longer.

“I- …” and then he starts yelling. “God damn it, Erik, I just lost my child, what do you expect me to do and say and feel? Of course they’re my family, all of them, but the man I love more than my life just left me paralyzed and miscarrying, and I won’t be able to have another baby that’s mine, _ours_ , not only by love, but also by blood, and-”

It is then that the door bursts open and the nurse comes rushing in.

“Didn’t I tell you not to upset him?” she rages, but stops dead when Charles stares at her with angry, seething eyes.

“ _Out_.”

Raising her eyebrows she turns around to leave, but stops again before stepping out. “Calm down. Now. Or I’ll have you sedated.”

With that she is gone again and all three of you stare after her a little dumbfoundedly.

Charles deflates visibly, then.

Slowly, hesitantly, you unwrap the arm that has held Raven close from around her and move to touch him, like she did before.

He shakes when your fingers come into contact with the skin of his cheek, but this time does not flee from your touch.

Encouraged, you move closer; the back of your hand now smoothed against his cheek.

He hesitates, but finally gives in and leans into your touch.

Then the tears start flowing.

You let go of Raven’s fingers, now, and move to hold him as best as you can and dare. She gives you a teary smile and darts around the bed, wrapping her arms around him from the other side.

He is trembling and shaking, the sobs rolling through his still drugged body, but what kind of pain killer could keep him from feeling the agony of what has just happened? There is nothing you can do, you know, nothing but to hold him and be there, and try to give him everything you can after all he has lost.

After a few moments of shrinking away from your touch he is now clinging to you, his face buried in your shirt which is already wet with Raven’s tears, and his fingers clawing into your shoulders. It hurts, but you barely feel it, too occupied with your own emotional pain.

Your sobs begin to match his as you hold him close, as hard as you dare and as softly as you manage to, all the while afraid you might hurt him even further.

He is holding himself upright only with the strength in his arms, and yours wrapped around his torso.

Raven is clinging to his back, her face hidden in his neck, and one of her hands is touching yours, while the other is holding Charles’ where it is clinging to your shoulder.

That warms your heart, and for a second the pain becomes bearable, because you know – you have made the worst mistake possible, and there is no atoning for what you did, but you are still a family, and there is nothing you will not do for each other.

You have lost so much, but you will always have each other and them.

It is then that Charles detaches his face from your shirt and gives you a tearful but loving smile.

It seems he has caught up that single thought.

“Yes, he whispers, hiccupping. “We’ll always have our family.”

 

xXx

 

Going home is a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Having to make all those changes to the house is as distracting as it is reminding you of what you have done, all the time. The same goes for having Charles around.

The wheelchair – you cannot help but hate it.

It means a constant stab of guilt, never stopping unless Charles is out of sight.

You do know that you deserve it, of course.

Charles – Charles seems to think differently.

In the beginning, that evening at the hospital, just after he was out of surgery… he was certainly blaming you then. Now, however, he seems to have forgiven you.

When you gulp down the rising bile whenever you see him in the wheelchair, remembering that this is your fault, he just smiles at you and seems to be genuinely happy to see you, no accusation in his eyes.

When you clench your fists so hard that your nails cut through your skin as you hold him at night, shaking with sobs because he has dreamed about having a baby once again, he hides in your arms instead of fleeing from you, and thanks you for being there for him instead of reproaching that you are the reason he has lost his child.

When you want to scream at those damned doctors as loud as you can while you listen to them telling Charles once more how low the chance is that he will conceive again, and how great a risk that would be to his health and _life_ he clings to your hand, and comes to you for comfort afterwards, never once accusing you.

He seems to have accepted the situation, no matter how hard he is trying to change something, _anything_ about the facts, as much as he has accepted you back into his life without hesitation.

There are now words which could express your love for him, or your gratitude.

What else is there to do but hold him, and be there for him, and do anything you can for the man you love so much and have hurt so badly?

It is one of those days, after you have been to another doctor, and the kids have beat retreat, as always. The first time they tried to comfort him, when he returned with his hopes smashed to pieces, but after the fourth or fifth time they gave up.

There is nothing one can do when the person one considers a parent comes home devastated once again, having hoped against all reason to receive a different answer just once.

Because this is Charles, after all, this highly irrational person, and you love him for it.

And if you are honest with yourself you, too, get your hopes up every single time, no matter how small they might be.

Neither of you wants the kids to see you like this, in this pool of disappointment and desperation and guilt you drown in every time, barely managing to hold each other’s heads above the water and way too exhausted to keep yourselves swimming as well. You would be drowning without each other, and that is what gives both of you the strengths to hold on until you reach the shores – knowing that, after all, you still have each other.

The kids do not want to see you like this, either.

There is something destructive about seeing a parent, who is supposed to be strong and shining and superhuman, all broken and devastated.

They will come to see you in the morning, when you have helped each other make it through the night, and everything will be brighter then. Life will be worth living once again, and you will be happy enough, with your family.

Right now, though, things are dark and threatening, pulling you under.

Both of you can still hear the doctor’s words, echoing in your minds which are one for the moment.

He has pulled yours into his own, and while this adds up the desperation both of you are feeling, it also adds up the hope and the love. A whirling pool of darkness, there is nothing to do but cling to each other in the chaos and destruction in that gloomy place of your shared mind. You would never find your way out alone, but with Charles here, you do not mind being stuck and lost and drowning.

Someplace outside that mind, you know, he is clinging to you as you are lying in the bed, and you are holding him as close as you can. Both of you will be crying and shaking with sobs, but you cannot see it now, not here.

That is what makes sharing a mind as dangerous as it is beautiful.

I want a child, Erik, he thinks and he does not have to project it, as you are one and the same right now. I… I want to be pregnant again.

The storm raging around you roars up as your shock and fear and panic give it strength.

You-

You would give him anything, anything you can, anything but this-

It is his _life_ at sake-

I know, he adds, and you can probably hear him cry outside as much as you can _feel_ it in here.  It’s too dangerous, and I won’t- … I just want it, Erik, so badly, and- … I’m not proposing it, I’m just-

Your heart slows down a little.

I know, you answer, and even in your thoughts it sounds choked. I want it too, Charles, but-

I know. He laughs, and it is more of a sob. But. I just… please, Erik.

Oh, how you wish you could say yes. How you wish you could give him this!

I… we’ll use prophylactics and everything, I won’t… I won’t risk my life, not even for this, because I know, you need me just as much as I need you. The lingering rest of panic disappears then, too, and you know that he is right. You need him. I won’t, I promise. But… that doesn’t change how I’d do anything- … I- …

He breaks into wracking sobs once again, and you gulp as you try to be there for him.

Your relief will be almost palpable, and you are well aware that he feels and hears everything you are thinking right now, but you would not want it to be any different.

As much as it hurts to see him in so much pain, as much as it reminds you of what you have done once more, as endless is your relief.

That fear has always been there, in those past months.

That fear that he would throw all caution out of the window and take the chance, however small it might be, to get pregnant again once-

You have not slept with each other since the beach incident, both of you still too shaken, and too insecure about the paralysis. Thanks to the way you share a mind so often both of you know that this has nothing to do with reluctance or disgust, but the fear not to be able to please, or to hurt the other. You have not told each other that things will be fine, for neither of you is ready, and that is alright.

You will be ready again someday, and for now you have everything you need.

Well.

 _Almost_ everything.

We… could adopt, you suggest, and are surprised by yourself. This is the first time that you really consider this. It would still be not our child in blood, but certainly in love… and one we could raise together. Also, the kids would love it. Raven and Angel… could dote on it, and the boys could be big brothers. You think of all the situations both of you have imagined the unborn child you have lost in. We’d get a mutant baby. It’s easy to find out… and we could give him or her the chance to grow up in a loving environment, with no need to hide. He will feel that this is not your dislike of humans, but your wish to grant at least one mutant child the chance to grow up in a loving family, and to feel accepted and _normal_ for all their life.

Charles’ sobs have subsided.

He actually smiles a little, you are sure, for there are a few sunrays breaking through the darkness.

We could adopt, he agrees. We could have a suit made for them, containing metal, so that you’d be able to make them float around. We could have them grow up with their mutation. We could be the parents of a baby. I love our teenage children, but… I want to have a baby, too.

He, too, is thinking of all those situations both of you have considered lost and gone.

But, Erik… He hesitates. Do you think I’d be a good father? Like… _this_?

The fact that you share a mind leaves no doubt that he is talking about his paralysis.

Without hesitance, sure like you never were, you answer.

No one could be a better parent than you, Charles, no matter the state of your legs.

And you know that he can feel your sincerity, your conviction.

And… we’re still a gay couple, Erik. I… the others _chose_ to have us as parents, but a baby…

… would never be seen as completely normal by society’s eyes anyway. This still makes you angry, but you know that it is true. Imagine all we could offer them.

He is really smiling now, and the darkness makes way for light.

“Yes,” he says, and you can hear it in reality, too. “We could adopt.”

 

xXx

 

Joey certainly is a happy child.

She is also keeping her parents as well as her siblings on their toes.

After she turned invisible for the first time you yourself crafted special bracelets, so that you would always be able to feel her, and Charles has permanently locked onto her mind in a way that is not intrusive, but keeping track of where she is.

Both of you will let it go when she turns thirteen, granting her privacy, but right now-

There is no way either of you will leave a mischievous five-year old who can turn invisible run around a school filled with teenagers with special powers without supervision.

Jocelyn – or Joey, as everyone but Charles calls her (you never miss a chance to tease him about his Oxford-ish need to give his daughter a sophisticated name, but, well, it _does_ mean happy or joyful) is doted on by everyone, not only her parents and by now grown-up siblings, all of whom are teachers now. The students, too, adore her. They are also annoyingly quick in helping her with any prank she might come up with, which are quite a few.

They always make sure to keep her safe, though, and while Charles and you think of all the students as your extended family – very few of them ever leave the school for good – there are some who wriggle their ways even deeper into your hearts than others.

Young Kitty is one of them, along with who the kids call Iceman.

The two of them usually look after Joey when all of you are off and away on date nights, collecting other young mutants, and eliminating threats. Ghosts, as they call your kid, adores the two of them as well, and has already managed to make Kitty invisible along with herself when touching her. Together they are a dangerous pair, unseen and able to walk through walls – perfect for pranking, as you are well aware.

“And Bobby will be the one to give them an alibi,” a warm voice says behind you.

Without having to look your hand finds his, but you do turn your head when he tugs at your arm, pulling you close. Mirth is dancing in his beautiful eyes, which are so full of life again.

Of that I have no doubt, you reply quite dryly as you bend down to kiss him.

He wraps his mind around yours just as he wraps his arms around your neck, pulling himself into a standing position. Easily you support him, pulling him flush against your body. He kisses you like he did that first time, all those years ago when you were training to take out Shaw – lovingly and fervently and deliciously all at once.

Thank you, he murmurs even as he tries to press as close as possible.

For what?

Everything. For being yourself, for loving me, for making me happy, for giving me so much reason to live… just thank you.

None of these are things you should thank me for.

But I want to.

You cannot help but smile against his lips, and he answers with pouting. Laughing softly you kiss him until he kisses you back again, losing himself in you and your mind.

I’m glad you found so much to live for again, you cannot help but tell him, remembering how empty and desperate he was after you hurt him so badly.

You alone would be reason enough, he answers, obviously quite distracted with the kiss and how your mind is pulling his as close as possible.

Hmm. You, too, are quite distracted. Now…

He smiles, even as he is pulling himself up higher, giving you a slight pulse inside your mind to hold his legs so that they are wrapped around your hips. Then I guess we should live until we die, right?

Your philosophical wisdom astounds me, you cannot help but tease him, although already answering verbally. “Sounds like a plan,” you murmur against his sweet lips while bolting the door of his office close as you move to put him onto his desk. “Until then, know that I’ll never leave your side.”


End file.
